Pottertalia and the Goblet of Fire
by Mistyrious
Summary: The Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur are at Hogwarts in the Fourth Year! Well, the twins are. Arthur is replacing Madam Hooch for Quidditch, and is keeping an eye on the twin's 2ps. Which houses? Who's names come out of the Goblet? Let's rewrite Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire together!
1. Chappie 1

**Note: At the beginning, this story will use a fair amount of J.K.R's words. Don't worry, I am only doing that to establish the story. Once we get to Hogwarts everything will change.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter and Hetalia, but I don't. They belong to their respective owners.**

**Also, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM! I want to make this story enjoyable for you guys! **

* * *

It was Frank's bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea of refilling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in it's upper windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by be flickering quality of light, they had started a fire. He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night.

The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old house key, put it into the lock, and let himself into the kitchen. Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his was toward it.

He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows on either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs.

On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: At the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond.

The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised him. Then he stopped moving and listened intently, for a man's voice spoke from within the room; it sounded cold and high-pitched, but there was no mistaking it was a man's voice. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on Frank's neck stand up. "Move me closer to him, Wormtail."

Frank turned his right ear towards the door, the better to hear. There came the dull scraping sound of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he went out of sight again.

"Arthur Kirkland..." said the cold voice. "M-My Lord," came a voice that was timid and fearful. _That small hunched man's voice,_ thought Frank. "Silence, Wormtail. It is rude to interrupt your master, you must know this by now. Unless, you need a reminder?"

"N-n-no, M-My Lord."

"Good, good. Now, once again, Arthur Kirkland, the Nation of England."

Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to the buildup of earwax, he had heard the icy voice say "the nation of England," which made no sense at all. _He must have said _from_ the nation of England._

"What do you want with me, Voldemort? Or am I just another killing 'experiment'. Am I just another person for you to kill when you are bored?" Frank stopped trying to clear his ear. It was obvious these people were criminals, holding a victim hostage. He moved a bit to the side, trying to get a fuller view of the room. Against the wall, he saw a man bound to a chair with way too much chain.

"In a way, you _are_ a killing experiment. However, this one is not for fun. I need your immortality. Don't deny it, you cannot die, and believe me, I will do whatever it takes to get that power from you."

Frank was astonished. Not only was this man a criminal, he was a _murderer_, and on top of even that, he was _mad as could be_. _Immortality? That was a foolish thought. No one lived forever, it was impossible._

The man who Frank now recognized as Arthur spoke. "No way in bloody hell! Even if you drank my blood like a unicorn's, you wouldn't be able to take my immortality away!"

"Is that so, England? Well, what's to say that I won't try, hm?" A think white stick could be seen just rising above the arm of the chair. The man in the chair gave a shout, and a jet of green light that surpassed even the eyes of his prisoner shot out of the end of the white stick, and the man bound to the chair slumped, lifeless.

And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look, and found himself paralyzed with fright.

Something was slithering toward him along the dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realized with a thrill if terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long. What was he to do? The only means of escape was into the room where someone had just been murdered by light, yet if he stayed where he was, the snake would surely kill him — But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, miraculously, it was passing. There was sweat on Frank's forehead now, and the hand on the walking stick was trembling. Inside the room, the cold voice was hissing, and Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible idea. . . ._ This man could talk to snakes._

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail," the man in the chair said, switching abruptly back to English.

"In-indeed, My Lord?" said Wormtail.

"Indeed, yes," said the voice. "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say."

Frank didn't have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open.

A short, balding man with graying hair, a pointed nose, and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm in his face.

"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?" Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room, and taking a firmer grip upon his walking stick, limped over the threshold.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" said the cold voice from the armchair.

"What's that you're calling me?" said Frank defiantly, for now he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver."

"I am calling you a Muggle," said the voice coolly. "It means that you are not a wizard."

"I don't know what you mean by wizard," Frank said, his voice growing steadier. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You've done murder! Turn 'round and face me like a man, why don't you?"

"But I am not a man, Muggle," said the cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames. "I am much, much more than a man. And soon, I will become even more than I am now. However . . . why not? I will face you. . . . Worntail, come turn my chair around."

The servant gave a whimper.

"You heard me, Wormtail."

Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have done anything than approach his master and the hearth rug where the snake lay, the small man walked forward and began to turn the chair.

And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it. He walking stick fell it the floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as it raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor. Unlike Arthur, he did not wake up. Arthur raised his head, revived, and said in a scratchy voice, "In the end, Voldemort, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."

Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter woke with a start.

Twenty minutes earlier, 196 people across the world woke up or stopped their day terrified, knowing one of their own was being tortured.


	2. Chappie 2

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

He sat up and reached for his glasses on the bedside table, and put them ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real. . . . There had been two people he knew and two he didn't. . . . He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember. . . . The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. . . . There had been a snake on a hearth rug . . . a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail . . . and a cold, high voice . . . the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though a nice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very though. . . .

And who had those two other men been? They had definitely been there, one old, and the other youthful, barely in his twenties. Yet Voldemort had claimed he was immortal. . . . They were both murdered. However, Harry did not remember that the younger man had returned from the land of the dead just before he woke.

That day, Harry got his invitation to go to the Quidditch World Cup with his best friend, Ron Weasley. All the Dursleys were waiting the following Sunday for the Weasleys to arrive, and for the bliss of Harry being gone. However, the Weasleys did not come and ring the doorbell, oh no. They came by floo powder, destroyed half the living room, gave Dudley a four foot long tongue, and then, mercifully, left.

"Well, why don't you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then"— Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans — "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

After a quick tour of the girl's tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

Their fellow campers were staring to wake up. First to stir we're the families with small children. However, there was a group that was a glaring exception to the grogginess of the campsite. Theses boys looked as if they had been up all night, excited for the match. Yelling, running, and overall much too hyper for the early morning. All looking around 17 years old to mid-twenties. One was screaming at the top of his lungs, "IGGY FOR THE WIN, DUDES!" Another, a quiet man with brown hair and brown eyes was kneeling down, poking a slug, which was slowly expanding, with his wand. However, another man picked up the slug and threw it away into the trees. "Kiku!" he reprimanded. 'Kiku' turned his back and went into his tent, obviously fed up with being treated as a child.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but stare._ Maybe they're here as like a bachelor party,_ Hermione thought.

At this point, the trio had stopped in their tracks to watch the strange group. Then, one's attention turned to them. It was the same man who had been shouting about 'Iggy'. He was wearing a t-shirt saying "Who's your hero?", what looked like an American bomber jacket with the number 50 on the back, and tan khakis with multiple pockets. "Sup, dudes and dudette?" He said with a wink and a big grin. Then, a man who looked fairly similar to him, with the exception of his hairstyle, his clothes, and his eye color.

"Ame-Alfred! Stop right there. You know we're not doing this yet," he said, and although it should have come out in a stern tone, his voice was too soft for it to have any effect. Alfred turned to him.

"Chillax, bro!" Then they exchanged some sort of sign language. Dude, I doubt he'll remember us. Anyways, we're taking Iggy's potion soon, so whatevs.

I doubt he's so stupid he won't recognize us as kids, America. We'll need an alibi. We can make it up as we go!

Harry was confused. "We're not doing this yet?" he repeated, asking the twins.

Matthew turned to him. "Don't worry about it, eh," and went through the same tent flap Kiku had, pulling Alfred in his wake, who turned and gave the trio a goodbye wink of his bright blue eyes.

"Strange," Hermione noted as they moved on through the campsite.

"Er— is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron. It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" It was Seamus Finnegan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a poster out in front of him. "Like the decorations? The Ministry's not too happy," he said, grinning. Then his expression changed. "You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" he added, eyeing the trio.

"Yeah," they all responded.

Then, Harry took a closer look at Seamus's poster. "Who's that you've got there?" The man in the poster brought back Harry's dream from two days earlier. It was the man who had been murdered. How strange Seamus would have him on a poster, Harry thought. _Maybe in memorial?_

Seamus's face fell, but it was Ron who responded. "Kirkland," said Ron quietly.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Kirkland!" said Ron. "Arthur Kirkland, the Ireland Seeker!"

"He looks fairly happy," said Hermione. She looked over to the section of Bulgaria's supporters. "Happier than the man on their posters, for sure." The man on the Bulgarian posters was Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker.

Seamus spoke up now. "He's gone missing, though. Gone for five days. They've got Lynch as a substitute Seeker, but he ain't nowhere near Kirkland. We're still hoping he turns up. He's cutting it real close," Seamus was shaking his head now. "Without him, we've got no chance of beating Bulgaria."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off again. When they reached the water spigot, there was a small queue. The trio joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument about 'Archie's' choice of Muggle clothing. Archie was wearing a flowery women's nightgown, and refusing to change into a pair of trousers, claiming he liked "a healthy breeze 'round his privates."

Hermione was giggling so much by this point that she left the queue, running into Alfred and Matthew once again. Matthew pulled Alfred away so quickly she couldn't even say hello. Hermione was bewildered. Matthew did not seem to be one who would act rudely, but his actions told her quite bluntly he did not want to talk.

Throughly done with laughing, she returned to Harry and Ron. Naturally, she told them all about the non-exchange, and they gave their speculations.

"Earlier Matthew had also said, 'we're not doing this yet."

"Yeah, seems a little fishy," Ron agreed. "But then again, what can we do about it?" Harry and Hermione nodded, realizing they could not go any further with the subject, but Harry was still pondering over two things. He voiced the less important one first, as they filled up at the spigot.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

"Well, mate, a lot of them are way too old, but I don't remember them during our first year. . . 'Spect they go to some foreign school. I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though."

Harry was amazed, hearing about other wizarding schools. He supposed, now that he saw representatives of so many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realize that Hogwarts couldn't be the only one.

His mind, however, was only briefly satisfied before it turned to the poster, which was very disturbing. If that seeker, Arthur Kirkland, was missing, then maybe what he had dreamt was true! Maybe Voldemort had captured the seeker and killed him!

Turning away from the water spout, he beckoned Ron and Hermione closer, and told them about his dream.

"Harry, that's really serious. . . . You ought to write to Professor Dumbledore! And also, your scar was hurting? When we get back to the Burrow, I'll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. But, that was like a vision, Harry! You could also—"

"Alright, alright, Hermione. We get. The. Point," Ron said, resignedly, knowing his interruption would have been in vain.

Surprisingly, Hermione did stop. She shot Ron a glare, then quickly turned back towards Harry, finishing hurriedly.

"Alright Ronald. But Harry,-I-think-we-ought-to-look-into-this. Especially-if-Kirkland-isn't-seeker-today." Hermione took in a deep breath, compensating for the lack of air during her talking. Then she sped up a bit, and was the first to walk back into the campsite.

"You've been ages," said George.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having 'fun' with the matches," said Fred. Hermione, taking pity on Mr. Weasley, went over and taught him how to properly use matches.

**ok! New chappie! I had this as one chapter, but split it into two so I could post this morning. Thanks for everyone's kind words! I'm happy you liked the first chapter! I will add in the italics for though and edit this when I get on a computer, but right now I'm posting on an iPad.  
**


	3. Chappie 3

**HUGE NOTE: **Phanfan925 came up with Assistant Professor, which I had originally planned for Arthur to take the position of. I had seen a few other people use the same title, so I thought it was ok, but the comment by Phanfan925 told me I was WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! I'm really sorry Phanfan, I love your story, and no copying was intended! And people who read this probably already have, but go check out Phanfan925's page! Ah-maaze-ing writer.

Once again, sorry. And now guess what!

**(mini-spoiler alert)**

Arthur's replacing Madame Hooch!

Chappie 3:

When they started walking towards the Quidditch stadium, they saw people lining the sides of the pathway to sell stuff, take bets, and to give pamphlets away.

"What are these?" Harry asked a vendor who had a table full of brass machines.

"Omnioculars!" the man said proudly. "Watch the game in slow motion, speed it up, rewind, pause, zoom in, and have running commentary of who has the Quaffle!"

Ron looked wistfully at the machines, but Harry ordered three pairs. "You aren't getting any Christmas presents. For about ten years, mi—" but he was cut off as he was nearly run over by two boys around their age.

They were running fast, almost too fast. But Alfred and Matthew knew the rules. No showing off your extra speed and agility, don't get hurt because people will ask questions when you're actually not hurt, and 498 others made specially for the twins by England. Sure, Alfred had complained about them, and Matthew had _thought_ about complaining (eventually deciding no one would listen even if he did), but the twins the twins had eventually come to their senses. (Or partially, in Alfred's case. . . .)

Hermione was the first to notice who they looked like. "Did you see any younger kids with Alfred and Matthew earlier? Because those two kids look like they really could be their siblings!"

Harry, who was still rubbing his side after the strong impact, chose not to respond. Ron, on the other hand, agreed with Hermione.

"They do look really similar. They've got to be brothers."

"I suppose the next time we see Alfred, we can ask him. I doubt Matthew would tell anything to us, based off his body language."

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried along the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere if feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn't stop grinning. No one could, really. But the worst of the giddiness fell on Alfred.

It had been a while since he was a kid, and he was not adjusting to it well. Matthew was thoroughly fed fed up with his twin, but once again decided against saying anything. Anyways, America needed him right now. America was giggling uncontrollably. Canada pushed America down into his seat in the top box. The only way Canada knew to get America to calm down was to pull Nantucket. And Canada did just that.

It was a good thing America was sitting, or stuff would have been even worse. Immediately America stopped giggling and started panting as if he had run a marathon. "Dude! I... told... you... NEVER... to... do... that... AGAIN!" America laid back in his seat, titting his chair as much as he could, as it was magically bolted down. Giving Canada the most evil look he could, before he composed himself and turned to the people who had just waked into the top box.

Edging along the second row to three empty seats were two parents and a son. The boy had a pointed face with locks of white-blond hair resting on top. And although he would have looked alright if he was smiling, he turned his pale face to the twins and sneered at them. Not exactly a way to get on the twins' good sides.

"I haven't seen you at Hogwarts. Are you _foreigners?_" he said, smirking. Lucius gave his son a warning look and whispered into his ear.

"They're the younger brothers of Arthur Kirkland!"

Draco brushed his father away. "So you're the brothers of Arthur Kirkland. . . Where has he been?" he demanded. Alfred glanced at Matthew.

There was the truth, that Arthur had been captured by Voldemort. There was a lie, nonexistent at this point in time, but they could make one up. And there was not responding.

Option number two. "Well, he was on a vacation." Matthew explained.

"Yeah," Alfred nodded. "It's kinda hard for him to get away, seeing he's such a great seeker and stuff."

Draco wasn't satisfied, but he stopped his interrogation and continued down the row of seats to his parents as the Minister of Magic entered and his father rose from his chair.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malloy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son Draco?" As Draco walked forward he gave a triumphant smile to the twins, sure that they would be jealous.

But they really couldn't care less; the Minister knew all of the countries on a first name basis. So when he looked around the box and spotted the twins, sitting side by side, he approached them with more enthusiasm than he did Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah! Alfred, Matthew! So great to see you two again," he said, reaching out his hand. Alfred shook Fudge's hand, Fudge almost forgetting to shake Matthew's hand before stepping back.

"Is Arthur doing well? And Francis?" the twins shook their heads yes. "I think so that I don't have to go on for hours, I'll just ask if everyone is alright," Fudge said jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah, dude. They're fine," Alfred said in his laid back manner. Arthur would have most certainly scolded him for "_Talking to one of my bosses like that!_"

"Let me introduce you to Mr. Oblansk— Obalonsk— Mr.— well, he's the Bulgarian Minister. And there's his 'friend'," Fudge added with a wink; the friend was the Republic of Bulgaria in human form. "Of course, you already know them."

At this point, the Malfoy's eyes were bulging out of their heads in astonishment. These two boys knew the Minister better than Lucius did!

Matthew spoke up. "Yes, we do. It's good to see you both. And Fudge, it's oh-bah-lon-SKUH," correcting the Minister of Magic on his pronunciation.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Matthew," he said. "Aha! The other members of the top box have arrived!"

In walked Mr. Bagman, Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Percy, Bill, and Charlie came into the box, chattering with each other, and filled in the remaining seats save for two in the back. When Hermione spotted Alfred and Matthew, she pulled her two friends over to the seats next to the twins.

"Hi!" she greeted them.

"Hey," America said. "Who are you guys? I'm Alfred, and this is my bro Mattie." In truth, America had to stop himself from saying "Hi Hermione", because he already knew their names. He had for a while.

Hermione realized that this Alfred and Matthew must be a set of younger twins than the Alfred and Matthew they had met this morning. So she said it. "I think we met your older brothers this morning. I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ronald, or Ron, Weasley, and this is Harry Potter." She had expected them to act as most did when they realized they were talking to the Boy Who Lived, and gasp, or react in some way, but the twins did not of those. They just nodded in understanding.

**okie hai guys who decided to stick around through the third chappie! I'm sorry I didn't have this up yesterday, but I promised my friend I'd help her post her fanfic about Blood of Olympus. I guess my goal will to be to post a chappie a day, because obviously I wasn't able to do two yesterday. Also, if anyone would like to put in some feedback, about whether you want ships, if you'd prefer I had longer intervals between chappies but posted longer ones, or ANYTHING at all, let me know! **

**Once again, I'm really sorry about that, Phanfan. I wouldn't blame you if you hate me now.**


	4. Chappie 4

Chappie 4:

Lucius Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, then up and down the box, noting how many had come with him.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?" The trio and the twins glared at the Malfoys.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as he, Harry, and Hermione turned to face the field again. Alfred turned their attention back to the box, however.

"Ditto," he snarled. He then drew more breath, about to begin ranting about how rude annoying the whole family was, but before his eyes could even gain a hint of a reddish tinge, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. No one had noticed he had sneaked out of the box a little while back, which was certainly a first.

Normally, Ludo announced everything as loudly as possible, just as he was about to do now. "Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming. "Minister— ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably, sinking back into his chair. Turning his voice into a mega-mega-megaphone with "_Sonorus!_", Ludo spoke over the chattering crowd of a hundred-thousand, and welcomed them.

"Ladies and gentlemen. . . welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

"It's actually the five hundred and sixty-ninth, but what's a hundred and forty-seven less huh?" whispered Alfred to his brother. "Remember the first one, Mattie?"

"I do," Canada answered, also whispering. It was a miracle they _could_ hear each other, seeing as the Bulgarian mascots, Veela, had just gotten off the field and everyone was shouting their protests.

"I especially remember that I had thought the brooms were hockey sticks and tried to hit the Quaffle with them, eh." Matthew was a little embarrassed and cringed at the memory. It had been a great broom for its time, destroyed within seconds.

By now, the Irish mascots, Leprechauns, were done with showering the crowd with gold coins, and drifted off to the side of the field, opposite from where the Veela stood.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — _**KRUM!**_" The scarlet-clad supporters screamed and wolf-whistled loudly as the team shot out onto the field from an entrance far below. People magically lifted up signs of Krum's glaring, dark, and sallow-skinned face.

"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch team!" Bagman yelled. "Presenting — Connoly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaaand welcome back — _**KIRKLAND!**_" The cheers for the Irish definitely surpassed that of the Bulgarians.

"Kirkland showed up!" Ron shouted into Harry's ear.

Alfred was shouting "IGGY FOR THE WIN, DUDES!" again, and this time Matthew joined him, although in a softer tone. People waved their badges, picked up their hats, waved signs, and did everything they could to let others know that they were supporting Ireland wholeheartedcly.

A chant then picked up. "**KIRK-LAND—KIRK-LAND—KIRK-LAND—KIRK-LAND**!"

The Bulgarians tried to out-shout the Ireland supporters. "**KRUM—KRUM—KRUM—KRUM**!" but it was in vain. There was no way they could make themselves heard.

The crowd quieted a bit as small, skinny, completely bald, and mustached man walked onto the field. The referee.

He carried a wooden crate of the various Quidditch balls under one arm, and his broom in the other. Mounting his broomstick, he kicked open the crate, and each one of them shot out. Giving a short blast of his silver whistle shot after the balls and up into get air.

"Theeeeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Harry had never seen Quidditch played like this before in his life. He pressed his Omnioculars to his glasses, and they cut into his nose. The chasers caught and passed so quickly that Bagman only had time to say their names.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium vibrated with cheers and stomping. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored two more times, making the score 30-0. The match became faster and more brutal now. The Bulgarian beaters whacked Bludgers as fiercely as possible at Ireland's Chasers, preventing them from using some of their best moves.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova — oh I say!" Bagman shouted. Krum had dived towards the ground, appearing as to have seen the Snitch. But Kirkland didn't follow.

"IS HE MENTAL?" Ron shouted angrily. But as he said that, Krum pulled up without a little golden ball held in his hands. He had tried to fake Kirkland into crashing into the ground, and Kirkland didn't fall for it. The Wronski Feint never worked on him. He'd seen it far too much.

"THAT is how good Iggy is," Alfred leaned forward and told the trio, Matthew nodding at his side. The game was now getting really bloody. Krum's nose was broken, Bludgers were attacking Chasers every two seconds, and it was really a miracle nothing worse happened than someone getting knocked out! But Ireland was still gaining points and was now far ahead.

Suddenly, _both_ Krum and Kirkland dived, and everyone knew that this time, the dive was real.

"He's seen it, he's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted, watching in exhilaration as the two Seekers dived, neck in neck.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione screamed.

"They both are, if they don't pull up," Ron yelled back. But at the last second, Krum pulled out of the dive, while Arthur Kirkland reached out and caught the Snitch, crashing onto the ground and rolling onto his back, the wind knocked out of him. But he held up his right hand, the golden Snitch flapping it's wings feebly.

The crowd exploded.


	5. Chappie 5

Back at the tent, everyone was celebrating. There were verbal replays being shouted out by Fred and George, singing from the other celebrators in the campsite, and a strange echoing bang.

"Oh am I glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating." Slowly, the tent's occupants all fell asleep, one by one. Harry dreamed of himself playing in the match, Ron dreamed about about Hermione being the only voice he could hear of the cheering crowd.

"Get up! Ron — Harry — come on now, get up, this is urgent!" Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit huge canvas.

"'S' matter?"

"No time, Harry — just grab a jacket and get outside — quickly!" Harry and Ron dashed out of the tent together, and spotted a group if wizards with their wand pointed straight up. Above them, there were four struggling figures being contorted my their puppeteers below them.

"They're Muggles! The campsite owner and his family!" Hermione, who was already outside, whispered, stricken.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child begin to spin like a top sixty feet above the ground, his head limp on his shoulder. "That is really sick. . . ."

Bill, Charlie, and Percy came out of the boys tent fully dressed with their sleeves pulled up. "We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley yelled over the din of the crowd. "Get in to the forest and stick together! I'll get you when this is over!" And they darted into the crowd of people.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her towards the woods. The trio and George followed hastily. The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium earlier were extinguished, and people ran blindly through the trees, pushing others out of the way.

Two peoples then appeared next to them, their wands lit to illuminate the dark forest.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" Alfred yelled gratefully. "You're here!"

"Alfred! Matthew!" Harry responded. He hadn't seen them after the game, they had slipped out of the top box before he could talk to them. "Why are you here?"

"We were told to go keep safe in the forest. You?"

"Same."

"Oooh, are you scared? Are the men in cloaks too _scary_ for The Boy Who Lived and the Brothers of the _Great_ Arthur Kirkland?" Draco sideled out from behind a tree, smiling deviously.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy. He looked expectantly at the twins, wanting one of them to take the bait, but neither of them did.

"You know what? I don't know either of your names. Looking at you, I'd say Stupid and Weak. Am I right?"

"You're not. I'm Matthew and this is Alfred." But Canada had said it too softly, and Malfoy chose to make the whisper into his own words.

"Oh, I was? See, I have a talent with names, you see," Malfoy said.

_Does he ever stop smirking?_ Alfred thought. _I mean, isn't there some saying that if you make an ugly face, it will stay that way? _

**Alright guys. Sorry this chappie is short, it's a little less than a page on Pages, where I write this. I also have bad news. I don't have internet connection at my house, so I'm not sure I can post both days of the weekend. I'll either put two chappies up, one on either sat. or sun., and then a longer one on Monday to make up for the day I lost, or post an extra extra long one on Monday, it depends on circumstances. I'm sowwie. *hugs* I'll see you again! **

**~Mistyrious~ **


	6. Chappie 6

A girl with hair redder than the Weasley's, if that was possible, came out from the trees, and  
waked up to Alfred and Matthew. She played with a daisy in her hair as she said,  
_***ICan'tDoAnIrishAccentSoJustImagineKK?***_ "Alfie, Mattie, what are you doing here? And  
where's Iggy? I need to thank him."

_Is it just me, or is Ireland drunk?_ Alfred asked himself.

Malfoy grinned maliciously. "Who is _she_? Your _aunt_? I didn't know Arthur Kirkland was a manwhore!" he cackled.

Alfred charged toward Malfoy, grabbing Draco's arm and yanking it up behind him, continuing  
even after it gave a horrible _*crack*_ and Malfoy screamed. Alfred was changing, his eyes turning  
maroon, his hair becoming darker, and his skin tanning. The most notable change, however,  
was the air surrounding him. It became thicker, darker, and intimidating.

Alfred looked down at Malfoy with no mercy as he coldly said, "I have had _enough_ of you  
insulting me, my family, and anyone I know. I think you deserve a bit of your own medicine,  
Draco." Alfred gave a mad smile as his aura grew darker and darker. He released Draco's arm, but he most certainly was not done.  
Out of seemingly nowhere, he conjured a bat with rusty, red nails smashed into the wood,  
covering the contemplated where to strike his target, but Matthew rushed forward,  
snatching the bat out of Alfred's unsuspecting hands, which were therefore slackened. Alfred  
rounded on Matthew.

"Give it back, Matthew!" he screamed at his twin, his face contorted with rage.

"No," Matthew said simply. "Snap out of it, Ame."

Matthew's voice was firmer than the onlookers had ever heard it. He waited patiently in front of  
America, as his twin's eyes slowly lost their reddish tinge, his aura and bat disappearing with it.  
Blinking, Alfred looked around him. He saw Malfoy lying on the forest floor, holding his arm and  
moaning pitifully.

"God damnit, Allen," Alfred muttered so quietly only Matthew heard it.

"At least it wasn't too bad this time," Matthew whispered back.

"Hey, Alfie! What's going on here? And what's that...?" Gráinne pointed skyward.  
There was a smoking green symbol blasted into the sky. A colossal skull with a snake slithering  
out of it's mouth, glittered in the dark sky, illuminating the entire forest. "It's funny!" Ireland  
giggled, stumbling towards the point where the spell had shot up through the trees. Hermione  
grasped the woman's cloak, holding her back.

"Come on, everyone, MOVE!" Hermione called as she pulled Gráinne backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, startled to see everyone's faces so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned. "_You-Know-Who_'s sign!"

Harry turned, realizing what the Dark Mark meant. Ron hurriedly scooped up his miniature Krum  
figure while the twins took Ireland away from Hermione and ran as fast as they could while still  
dragging her. But they only made it a couple meters before the air surrounding them filled with  
sharps_ *crack*_s.

With the sharpest reflexes developed from years of combat, Alfred and Matthew dove to the  
ground and shouted at the others. "**DUCK!**" they screamed at the top of their lungs.  
Just in time, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione and pulled them onto the forest floor beside him.

"_STUPEFY_!" roared twenty voices — there was a blinding series of flashes and everyone  
crouched down felt the hair on their head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept through  
the clearing. Raising his head a fraction, Alfred saw fiery jets of red light flying over their heads,  
shot from the wizards that surround them's wands, rebounding off tree trunks and leaves into  
the darkness.

"_**STOP!**_" yelled two voices.

"_That's my son!_" yelled one, while the other yelled, "_Those are my brothers!_"

"E-England?" Alfred said shakily. _It's been so long, I'm not used to the wizarding world anymore._

"Alfred!" England yelled rushing forward to Alfred and embracing him. For once, America did not  
shrug off his affections, and hugged England back. Arthur took Alfred's face in his hands, staring  
into his eyes before asking, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, don't worry Iggy." And that's how Arthur Kirkland knew Alfred F. Jones was fine. He  
smiled; he couldn't be angry at the nickname right now. He looked over toward Mr. Weasley,  
who was with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"Out of the way, Arthur and Arthur," said a cold, curt voice. Mr. Crouch closed in on the five kids  
and young woman (Draco had fled, terrified at the sight of the Dark Mark). Mr. Crouch's face  
was taut, furious.

"Which if you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured  
the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" Harry said, gesturing to the skull in the sky above him.

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes  
were popping — he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, and the woman's  
drunk! They'd never have been able to —"

"Where did the Mark come from, you five?" said Mr. Weasley quickly, choosing to ignore the  
inebriated woman.

But Gráinne seemed to have sobered up. Since she was a country, alcohol went through her  
system quickly. Arthur was the only one that couldn't go anywhere near alcohol without getting  
so drunk he couldn't tell up from down. . .

"Over there," she said, pointing into the forest off to the right. There was a deep and rough  
voice, and he said an incantation. . . ."

"Said and incantation, did he now? You seem very informed about how this spell is conjured,  
_missy_."

No one else, however, seemed to have the same view on the matter as Mr. Crouch did. The  
other Ministry officials had raised their wands once again, but pointed their wands instead into  
the forest where Gráinne pointed.

"We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have  
Disapparated."

"I don't think so," said Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our stunners went right through those  
trees. . . . There's a good chance we got them. . . ." Mr. Diggory raised his wand and marched  
across the clearing, disappearing into the darkness,

A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout.

"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's — but — blimey. . ."

"Who is it? Who've you got?" shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving.

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory  
reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Harry  
recognized the tea towel at once, having seen it before in the top box. It was Winky the Houseelf.

The whole proceedings were entirely unappetizing. Winky answered questions, Mr Crouch gave  
her clothes, but then, something remarkable happened.

"Winky, come over here," Matthew said kindly, and he knelt down, his twin doing he same  
beside him. "It's alright, Wink. I was just thinking it was time for you to come back to us, eh?"

Winky looked up."M-Masters! I-I didn't s-see it was you!" Winky straightened up immediately,  
realizing who she was with. "I'm sorry, Matthew, Alfred!"

"Ah, it's alright, Wink. Ya know we don't care about that stuff," Alfred said, smiling.

Barty Crouch Senior was dumbfounded. His elf was, happy! Winky was grinning from ear to ear, pleased  
to be back with her old masters. "Winky, who are these people?" he asked her, irritated. _This_  
_would do no good, his son could still find her._

"This is Matthew Williams, and this is Alfred Jones!"

"And where do you know them from?"

Winky looked over to her masters. The twins had never stopped being her masters, only they  
periodically told her to go work for others sometimes, especially when the brothers had  
something very important to do. She knew they were countries and since she lived with them so  
much, their immortality had passed into her, as it did to any pets they owned. She remembered  
her old orders, she could never tell anyone how she actually met them: when they were children  
being raised by England, she had worked for England. Then, as a gift (although not one of his  
brightest ones), the twins were given Winky. They treated her as an equal, and she had became  
accustomed to it, although she knew never to expect it from other masters.

"I is their house-elf, Mr. Crouch," Winky said simply.

"No! You've been my house-elf for longer than they have been alive!"

"Mr. Crouch," Alfred stood up, gaining much more height by the action than he should have. "What Winky means is that she is now our house-elf. As you just gave her clothes, she is no longer your servant, and is now our _companion_."

Mr. Crouch took a step backward. Alfred had gotten taller, and now looked the age of 19.

_He looks exactly like his older brother,_ Hermione thought. _So does Matthew._

And she was right. Both twins had grown up in the span of a minute.

"Let's go back to the tent, Ame," Matthew suggested. He turned on the spot, disappearing. He had forgotten the laws about apparating, and left Alfred to clear up the situation.

_Seriously? Shit! He just _had_ to do that in front of MINISTRY dudes?_ Alfred complained in his head.

"D-did your brother just apparate?" Mr. Crouch spluttered.

"Uhm, it's not exactly like apparating," Alfred made up (even though Matthew totally had just  
apparated). "Its, like, something, uh, like, else. . . ." Alfred's Valley Girlishness showing through in his  
nervousness.

With a spin, Alfred was gone too. Lastly, Winky, with her elf-way of apparating, and snapped her  
fingers, following her masters elatedly.

"Well, I'm going to take this lot back to our tent, if that's alright," Mr. Weasley said. "If Harry could  
have his wand back now, Amos, I think it's done all it can for us." Amos handed over Harry's  
wand, and Mr. Weasley led the group back to the tents.

"That was strange, wasn't it?" Hermione asked Harry. "I mean, they just randomly turned into  
teenagers."

"But that's not the least of it!" Ron exclaimed. "Alfred nearly killed Draco there, not that I'm  
complaining. . . ."

***giggles* I'm introducing a bit of USUK ;3**

**It won't be too much, those of you who don't like it. Just a bit over winter break, that kind of stuff. *dances* I'm a little too hyper today to say much down here, but thanks to those of you who've given your support - a few guests, **WereCat-Yoruichi, tokiluv, Luca20, fictionhunter, **and others! 3 *gives cookies* (And that's saying something, I am a sugarholic *3*)**


	7. Chappie 7

Since the twins needed supplies for their time at Hogwarts, Arthur brought them to Diagon Alley early in the morning before they left for King's Cross Station. No one was in a good mood, after all, it was six in the morning! The sky was a gray canvas with strokes of light pouring out from the horizon, but the air was frigid as Arthur led Alfred and Matthew into Gringotts. Arthur had seen no point in disguising the twins, as anyone who would be going to Hogwarts would be busy preparing for the departure of the Hogwarts Express.

"So, Alfred, how does Diagon Alley compare to Aetas Yard and Lityo Court?"

"Oh come _on_, Iggy. You've been there," Alfred said as he rested his elbow on Iggy's shoulder and continued to walk, England shrugging him off. "They're waaaay better than anything you have! This place is so _old_ too. A&amp;L are _modern_ and _cool_, dude!"

Arthur had decided not to pay much attention to America at the moment and instead turned to Canada, actually remembering his other brother for once. "Well, Matthew, what about Maple Pathway?"

Canada smiled at the name. The old Minister of Magic had approached him and asked him what he would like to name the wizarding shopping district. It had come to him immediately, and the Minister loved it, too.

"I think Maple Pathway is quieter, and it's got brighter colors, like pastels. We also have a shop right near the entrance of maple syrup, maple candies, and even little baby maple trees that are enchanted to produce syrup even at such a small size!" Matthew grinned. He really did love Maple Pathway. It was the kind of place you could just spend the whole day and you'd have a great time, even if you didn't buy anything.

They finally reached Gringotts and walked into the entrance, through the long foyer, and up to the goblin sitting in a high desk, weighing jewels.

"I am here to withdraw from vault Number One," Arthur addressed the goblin.

The goblin straightened up, and asked for identification, which Arthur handed over. Then, the goblin led them through a locked door and into one of the fast carts that led you anywhere.

"WHOA! COOL DUDES, THIS IS JUST LIKE RIDING A ROLLER COASTER!" Alfred yelled as he threw his arms up. He certainly had his time to enjoy the ride, as Arthur's Gringotts account was the absolute oldest. After all, he had a crucial part in the designing and building of the bank. Arthur's vault had the most protections, and it took them a little bit to get through all them. First there was the Thief's Fall (I'm not sure if that's what it's called, my memory just died on me), then Thief's Wall (haha pun intended,_ pleasedon'tshootme_), a wall that blocks all that are not authorized to enter vaults 1-10. Next was a dragon, and finally, the Fire Door. Fire Door was a fire that only the owner of the vault could walk through without instantly being incinerated.

"Go through the fire, please, and touch your vault door," the goblin instructed Arthur. "Then the door will open and the flames will disappear." But Arthur was already gone. Having heard the instructions about the Fire Door millions of times (literally), he just walked through, knowing the door did no harm.

As the flames flickered out, the goblin's eyes widened. It had been a myth ever since the bank was started that vault number one contained riches beyond imagination, but England hardly ever came down to visit his vault, and only one goblin had been trusted to open the old vault. However, said goblin had retired, and Bord, as his name turned out to be, had been chosen. The prospect of having to go through all those security measures was not appealing to him, but he soon came to realize his job required almost no work, so he could spend his days happily examining jewels and goblin-made beauties.

England's vault was filled to the brim with stacks of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. But that was not what made the goblin practically salivate. He owned some of the oldest magical treasures there ever were. The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw and Merlin's famous and ornate staff were only a few notable ones in the piles.

As he entered his large vault, which could be more accurately described as ballroom sized, Arthur swept a brown bag from his pocket and filled it with thousands of coins, which disappeared into it's never filling depths. With the bag still as light as a feather, he handed one to Alfred and starting filling another for Matthew, and finally, a smaller one for himself.

As they left, Arthur whispered to America. "When I head over to Aetas, I better be replayed with those Mintas of yours."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

_Now here's some information on America and Canada's magic schools! _

_~ Aetas School of Magic — co-ed and similar to Lityo. Located in New York, entrance is in the crown of the Statue of Liberty, exact location is actually in the sky above the statue. Most females end up going to Lityo instead of Aetas. Very modern, but Lityo has better accommodations. _

_~ Lityo Magic School for Talented Witches — related to Aetas, but for higher achieving female students. Located in Colorado near Estes Park. Entrance in Air Force academy, each year the seniors fly planes full of students to the school in the mountains. (They enchant the planes, of course.) They especially love outdoors activities, and have many other sports, including some Muggle ones. The girls love expensive stuff, and although they may seem it, they really aren't snobs, they're a close knit group of sisters. _

_~ Maple Leaf School of Magical Learning — co-ed. Located in Dauphin, Manitoba. They take a lot of trips into Maple Pathway to stock up on maple syrup, candies, etc., as they run through them quickly. It's a tradition for people to have a maple-making contest in the middle of the year to see who can make the best maple product. _

_Now, I know I may have seemed a little lazy coming up with the Alleyway names, but when I think of them, I imagine them really close to the schools and made especially for the students. _

_I got the names Aetas and Lityo from my other story, Alfred and Aetas, and modified the tech company Lito into Lityo. _

_I especially love the idea of Lityo, because I am from Colorado, and I made like a place I would love to go :D_

**Ok actual note now. This is more a filler and I really wanted to introduce Aetas and Lityo :3 **

**Damn, I was gonna say something, but of course, with my horrible memory, I forgot _**

**Ah right.**

**1\. Mintas, as you might have guessed, is a form of American Wizarding Currency.**

**2\. Yes, I didn't use Salem Witches Institute, I just didn't feel like it.**

**3\. It's Back-To-School-Night tonight, so since I don't have to do anything, I think I can try to write a bit more ;)**

**See ya tomorrow!**

**~Misty~**


	8. Chappie 8

Walking back along the cobbled road to the one and only exit, the Leaky Cauldron, Arthur, Alfred, and Matthew passed the Quidditch shop.

_Since I'm going to be a flying teacher, I ought to get some new brooms for the school. I heard they aren't doing so well after fifty years of use. . ._ Turning abruptly, Arthur moved towards the shop, grabbing Alfred's hand and guiding him to his new destination.

"Great idea, Iggy!" Alfred told Arthur. "I could use another broom-care kit?"

"Alfred _how_ many times do I have to tell you _not to call me Iggy_! It's Igirisu, and we don't even speak Japanese here! We're in ENGLAND!"

"Tom-AY-toh toh-MAH-to," America responded, smirking playfully. Then his eyes widened. "Omfg dude! Look what they've got here! It's add-ons to your broom!" His hands grabbed a random item off the shelves and inspected it.

"It's a ball tracker!" Alfred announced. "Why would you need that?" Alfred was confused. There wasn't much use for that, except for a seeker, and the packaging said "**Banned for Seekers.**".

"Ah, yes," said the shop owner, coming around the shelves. "There are two new positions on official Quidditch teams this year! They've added two spots called, 'Catchers,'. Although they don't only catch," he added," they also have to avoid more than Bludgers. They focus on three types of balls. They're a little bigger than Snitches, but much, much, faster. Their colors are red, white, and blue. There are a lot of reds and whites flying around in the game, and less blues. Reds are the balls you have to avoid. They're constantly chasing after you, so you can't stay still for very long. White and blue are the ones you try to catch. White get's you five points, blue gets you twenty. Interesting huh?"

"Hell yeah, dude! And red, white, and blue totally are for me! America the hero!"

"Ah, so you're from America, I see. What about the others you came wi—" As the shopkeeper got a good look at the other two, he recognized Arthur. "Oh, sir! I didn't see it was you, I must congratulate you! What an amazing performance this weekend! It was absolutely marvelous!"

"Ah, thank you very much, kind sir," and Arthur went back to looking at the brooms. _I think I'll get the school a few. Nimbus 5000s._

"Uhm," the shopkeeper stepped forward timidly. "Could I have an autograph?"

Arthur smiled, people were so kind about it, he couldn't deny them just one simple signature. "Sure," he said, and conjured a pen and parchment with his wand. "Who should I sign this to?"

"Ah, Sherman Piercer's the name. Thank you so much!" Sherman exclaimed as the parchment was handed over.

"No trouble at all, good fellow. Anyways, I was here to buy some stuff for my new job at Hogwarts! I shall be teaching flying, and the school's brooms aren't very good, of so I've heard. So, I would like to buy, hmmm, twenty Numbus 5000s. I can pay you now, and then you can ship them to Hogwarts, if that's alright."

"Of course, of course! That's 100,000 Galleons though, that alright?"

"Yes," Arthur said, pulling out one of the never-filling bags, pointing his wand into its depths and saying, "Accio, wingardium leviosa!" The coins soared out of the bag and landed on the table.

"I'll be looking forward to them arriving at Hogwarts then," Arthur said to Sherman. "Alfred, do you want that broom add on?"

"Heck yeah dude! This things so awesome!" He ran over, plopping the box down onto the counter. "How much is it, Sherman, my man?" He turned the box over. "Oh. There it is! 50 galleons." Alfred rummaged in his back and pulled out the money. "Alright, dude! This is totally perfect for a hero's broom!"

"Alfred, you go first. Just run at the wall and go through. Matthew can go second, and I'll follow with your luggage." They were in between platforms 9 and 10, and England had just told the twins how to get through the barrier and onto platform 9 and 3/4.

"Time for the hero to meet the civilians!" America shouted and ran at the wall. He didn't even flinch.

"Kumajikipo, come over here," Matthew beckoned to his polar bear.

"Who are you?" "I'm Matthew, your owner. Now let's go." He grabbed the little bear and walked through the barrier with him.

Arthur walked forward, closing the gap between him and the wall. As the disappeared, he thought he saw out of the corner of his eye France.

_Impossible, what would the frog be doing here?_


	9. Chappie 9

**Sorry about the old version of this chappie, guys! Damn code always getting in the way... but still makes everything on the computer possible! Love/hate relationship. Cx**

* * *

"Alright, I'll see you at Hogwarts, you two," Arthur said, waving at the twins.

"Yeah Iggy! What is it you're teaching again?"

"I'll be coaching flying, Madame Hooch is retiring. Dumbledore thought the position would suit me. Anyways, go find a compartment, they tend to fill up quickly."

"Okay Iggy! See ya," and as Alfred turned away, his smile dropped, and he hurried along the corridor into the first empty compartment he saw, which was in about the middle of the train. Sinking into the cushioned bench, he spread himself along it and took up all of it. Across from him, Matthew took a maple leaf pillow from his bag and did the same.

"Ugh. I swear, we're going to blow our cover at least a million times by the end of this year, Mattie," Alfred told his brother.

"Don't worry about it, we'll make up lies, eh? And anyways, we're alone for now, America, we can say our actual names."

"Good point Canada. But I can't _not_ worry about it, England was so pissed when our potion wore off in the middle of all those people in the forest. He tried killing me again, Canada!" America tuned his face into bench. "And all I can think of is eventually one of those is going to work, and you'll be all alone, and, and. . ."

But the compartment door had just opened. Alfred turned around in his seat, his face a mask devoid of emotion as he faced the entrants. At first, he didn't recognize who it was. Just another passing face of many in history.

"Hey you two," said a blurry face with brown, bushy hair. As Alfred let the face materialize, however, he recognized who she was.

"Oh. Hi, Hermione," Alfred said, sinking back into the cushions and plastering on a smile.

"Hi, Hermione," Matthew then said. He looked over her shoulder and saw the two others with her. "Hi Ron, Harry."

"Hey," Harry said back.

"The other compartments are kinda all full," Hermione explained.

"You guys were the only ones that we could cope with sitting next to," Ron said, giving a shout when Harry elbowed him.

"Oh, I get it," Alfred said. He climbed over the table separating the benches and plopped down next to Matthew. "Have a seat," he said cordially, although he was not in the mood to be friendly at all. _He wanted to scream, shout, punch, kick, shoot, and blow things up. _

Matthew noticed the change in his brother's demeanor. He noted the reddish tinge to his eyes, his tense body posture, and decided to pinch Alfred, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious. It worked luckily, and Alfred gave Matthew a grateful nod.

"So, how's your day been going so far?" Hermione asked kindly, trying to break the ice.

"Long," Alfred yawned, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe Mattie and I had to wake up at five a.m.? Two words: _Living. Nightmare._"

"I think I had a worse time," piped Matthew. "Alfred doesn't wake up when he has to, but seems to rise early when it's unneeded!"

_They kinda seem like opposites. Fred and George are the exact same._ Ron thought while Hermione responded to that interesting fact, speculating if they might have insomnia or something like that. . . .

The twins entered the apartment, as if they had known Ron was thinking about them. "Oy, Ron, here's a tip: don't think so loudly. We heard your thoughts about the new twins," said George.

"And we're here to give them our newly patented 'Twin Test'!" finished Fred.

"Hey, weren't you two in the top box too?"

"Yep, and this scrawny git here,"

"Is our little brother." The twins both took one of Ron's shoulders and shook it. "So, it's just a few questions..."

"What are your nicknames for each other, if you have them?"

The twins conversed a bit in sign language.

_I guess we should say Alfred and Matthew, since, well, you know._ Alfred said.

_Yeah, we will. Since this is a twin test, wanna mess with them and say it at the same time? _

_My thoughts exactly, dude. _

"Matthew calls me Alfred," America started.

"And Alfred calls me Matthew!" The ginger twins looked at each other. They were impressed. As their signaled conversation had happened in a matter of seconds, it looked as if the answer had come at the same time to them. Hermione looked up from her book.

"Wait, I thought those were your real names!" she said. "What are your actual names, then?"

"We can't tell you," the twins chorused back in unison. The grilling continued until Fred and George were convinced that the two countries were the closest twins they had ever met.

"Impressive, very, very, impressive," they remarked. "Anyways, the train is about an hour from Hogwarts. Hurry up and get to the changing rooms or you'll be stuck in line until the train loops back to King's Cross!"

"That reminds me," Harry said. "Do you two know which houses you'll be sorted into?"

"Sorting? What's that, dude?" Alfred asked confused.

"Ooooh, you're right Harry, this is their first year at Howarts! They'll probably be sorted after the first years."

"Alright, I'll see you at Hogwarts, you two," Arthur said, waving at the twins. "Yeah Iggy! What is it you're teaching again?" "I'll be coaching flying, Madame Hooch is retiring. Dumbledore thought the position would suit me. Anyways, go find a compartment, they tend to fill up quickly." "Okay Iggy! See ya," and as Alfred turned away, his smile dropped, and he hurried along the corridor into the first empty compartment he saw, which was in about the middle of the train. Sinking into the cushioned bench, he spread himself along it and took up all of it. Across from him, Matthew took a maple leaf pillow from his bag and did the same. "Ugh. I swear, we're going to blow our cover at least a million times by the end of this year, Mattie," Alfred told his brother. "Don't worry about it, we'll make up lies, eh? And anyways, we're alone for now, America, we can say our actual names." "Good point Canada. But I can't not worry about it, England was so pissed when our potion wore off in the middle of all those people in the forest. He tried killing me again, Canada!" America tuned his face into bench. "And all I can think of is eventually one of those is going to work, and you'll be all alone, and, and. . ." But the door had just opened. Alfred turned around in his seat, his face a mask devoid of emotion as he faced the entrants. At first, he didn't recognize who it was. Just another passing face of many in history. "Hey you two," said a blurry face with brown, bushy hair. As Alfred let the face materialize, however, he recognized who she was. "Oh. Hi, Hermione," Alfred said, sinking back into the cushions. "Hi, Hermione," Matthew then said. He looked over her shoulder and saw the two others with her. "Hi Ron, Harry." "Hey," Harry said back. "The other compartments are kinda all full," Hermione explained. "You guys were the only ones that we could cop with sitting next to," Ron said, giving a shout when Harry elbowed him. "Oh, I get it," Alfred said. He climbed over the table separating the benches and plopped down next to Matthew. "Have a seat," he said cordially, although he was not in the mood to be friendly at all. He wanted to scream, shout, punch, kick, shoot, and blow things up. Matthew noticed the change in his brother's demeanor. He noticed the reddish tinge to his eyes, his tense body posture, and decided to pinch Alfred, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious. It worked luckily, and Alfred gave Matthew a grateful nod. "So, how's your day been going so far?" Hermione asked kindly, trying to break the ice. "Long," Alfred yawned, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe Mattie and I had to wake up at five a.m.? Two words: Living. Nightmare." "I think I had a worse time," piped Matthew. "Alfred doesn't wake up when he has to, but seems to rise early when it's unneeded!" They kinda seem like opposites. Fred and George are the exact same. Ron thought while Hermione responded to that interesting fact, speculating if they might have insomnia or something like that. . . . The twins entered the apartment, as if they had known Ron was thinking about them. "Oy, Ron, here's a tip: don't think so loudly. We heard your thoughts about the new twins," said George. "And we're here to give them our newly patented 'Twin Test'!" finished Fred. "Hey, weren't you two in the top box too?" "Yep, and this scrawny git here," "Is our little brother." The twins both took one of Ron's shoulders and shook it. "So, it's just a few questions..." "What are your nicknames for each other, if you have them?" The twins conversed a bit in sign language. I guess we should say Alfred and Matthew, since, well, you know. Alfred said. Yeah, we will. Since this is a twin test, wanna mess with them and say it at the same time? My thoughts exactly, dude. "Matthew calls me Alfred," America started. "And Alfred calls me Matthew!" The ginger twins looked at each other. They were impressed. As their signaled conversation had happened in a matter of seconds, it looked as if the answer had come at the same time to them. Hermione looked up from her book. "Wait, I thought those were your real names!" she said. "What are your actual names, then?" "We can't tell you," the twins chorused back in unison. The grilling continues until Fred and George were convinced that the two countries were the closest twins they had ever met. "Impressive, very, very, impressive," they remarked. "Anyways, the train is about an hour from Hogwarts. Hurry up and get to the changing rooms or you'll be stuck in line until the train loops back to King's Cross!" "That reminds me," Harry said. "Do you two know which houses you'll be sorted into?" "Sorting? What's that, dude?" Alfred asked confused. "Ooooh, you're right Harry, this is their first year at Howarts! They'll probably be sorted after the first years."


	10. Chappie 10

**Hey! Sorry I didn't post yesterday, it was my father's birthday and I'd forgotten about it and didn't plan ahead to conduct my writing around it. Also, I might be putting up shorter chapters, as I have, what, five tests/quizzes this week at school? O_o**

**Also, my space and some other buttons are giving me trouble. Sorry if there are extra typos.**

Arthur sighed, a lay his head against the window of the train. It had been crazy, with all the nightmares. Voldemort, standing in front of him, frustrated, demanding to know his secret to everlasting life. The green flashes, over and over, whirled in a tornado behind the lids of his eyes, is hypnotic swirls pulling him into darkness.

_"In the end, Voldemort, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years," Arthur said, lifting his head off his chair._

_"Arthur, you and your meaningless quotes. What will words do to stop me?"_

Words won't stop you, _Arthur thought, _bu they will buy time for me. _"Voldemort, have you ever consiered asking nicely for something? Perhaps , then, you would wast less time torturing he information out."_

_"They say you have to _mean _an unforgivable curse to perform it, that you have to want to _enjoy_ the experience of controlling, tormenting, and killing. Do you think I enjoy that?"_

_"No."_

_"No, you say? Why, I've tortured hundreds to madness, killed more people than I can count, and you say I did not enjoy every one of those spells I had cast, and their consequences?"_

_"You did not. Not really. You were just desperate for power, as always, Voldemort," Arthur said, sighing._

He jolted awake as the train's whistle blew. A long _toooooot_ and the wheels began to slow. _I need to figure out a way for these nightmares to stop coming. It's not even night right now!_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Alfred saw a huge man with a large, scruffy beard and knotted hair holding up a lantern and shouting, "**Firs' years over 'ere! Firs' years!**"

"Hey, Mattie, it's a giant!" Alfred whispered into his brother's ear. "How tall d'ya think he is? 20 feet? 30?"

"Alfred," Matthew said exasperatedly. "One, that's rude, and two, you're really exaggerating!"

Alfred tried to walk towards the man, but Hermione stopped him. "That's Hagrid, he's the Gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher. But we're fourth years. . . er, you are 14, right?"

"Yep," responded the twins in unison. "Anyways, what about all of us being fourth years?"

"Oh, right. Well, it's not specific to fourth years, but unless you're a first year, you take the carriages up to the entrance. First years go in boats an they enter the Great Hall after us. After that, they get sorted. Ah, here the carriages are!" The carriages pulled up all in a row and the students began to pile in.

Alfred and Matthew started at the carriages. "Hey, guys, what are those things pulling the carriages, eh?" Matthew asked.

"T-there isn't _anything_ there, Matthew. The carriages have always pulled themselves," Hermione answered. "What is it that you see?"

"It's kinda creepy, dudes! They're like, a grayish blackish horse, and they're really bony. And then they've got wings that are paper thing!" Alfred told Hermione. "Ring a bell?"

"Yes, actually. That sounds like an exact description of a Thestral!"

"A Thes-whatty-who-how? Say that again, slower this time."

"Theeeestrals," Hermione pronounced, making sure to say it _very _slowly this time. "Only people that have seen death can see Thestrals."

"Who've you seen die?" Ron asked immediately. Harry elbowed him again.

"Lots of people," Alfred said, and got into the carriage.

The group was silent during the ride to the castle. Alfred and Matthew stared up at the slowly growing brick figure in front of them.

_Lots of people? What kind of childhood have they had? _Harry pondered, concernedly. Ron and Hermione's thoughts were along the same line.

_That's so big! And I'm gonna spend the year here? Totally amazing, dude! _Alfred was thinking.

_I hope that we have fun this year, Arthur seemed really excited. I might have to make some additions to Maple Leaf to impress him and Alfred,_ were Matthew's thoughts.

The carriages stopped in front of the entrance and the group hopped out. The doors were propped open by a couple students who were kind enough to make sure others weren't smushed in between them. But those students could only protect from the door's dangers, not from what was _behind _the door. And behind that door was Peeves.

Peeves meant double trouble for Alfred. As he walked trough the entry, he was hit with a blast of water. Expecting attack, he whirled around and pulled his gun out of his pocket, shooting up at the ceiling. While the bullet met its mark and went straight through Peeves's chest, it was just that , it _went straight through him._  
Alfred screamed a high-pitched girly scream. "IT'S A GHOST IT'S A GHOST OHMYGOD NOOOOO! FREEDOM, HELP ME!"

Sorry, the library's closing. Will finish up this chapter tomorrow and put up the new one.


	11. Chappie 11

A giant bald eagle soared through the entrance and flew like towards Peeves, who, surprisingly, fled.

"Yeah, Freedom!" Alfred said, giving his eagle a high five. Yes, an _actual high five_. Hand to wing.

But then the Bloody Baron came around the corner, and the students realized why Peeves had actually left. That made no difference to Alfred though. As soon as one ghost went away, here came another one! "Shit!" Alfred yelled, and ran. . . straight into Professor McGonagall.

"Amer–Alfred? What in heavens name is this?!" she asked him.

"It's was a ghost dude throwing water balloons! And now there's another ghost! Minerva, what are we supposed to do?"

Some of the onlookers gasped. The new kid had just called McGonagall by her _first name_? Who did he think he was? Minerva, however, seemed to think nothing of it. "Alfred, ghosts are normal here at Hogwarts," she said (a bit patronizingly). "Surely Arthur told you?"

"Yeah, but," Alfred said, visibly shaking, "but, but, GHOSTS!"

The commotion was so loud now, that Dumbledore came into the entryway. "What is the matter?" His eyes fell onto the trembling Alfred. "Ah. Come, Alfred, let's get you into the Great Hall, my friend. We have much to discuss," and Alfred was led away. At the edge of the room, Dumbledore turned once more. "Matthew, would you like to come too?" Matthew speed-walked over to them and they walked together into the Great Hall.

Whispers erupted all over the room about what had just happened. "_Dumbledore knows the twins personally. . . I hear they're super rich. . . Their older brother is Arthur Kirkland! . . . Someone told me_ _that they're the purest of pure bloods. . . Really? I heard they were Muggleborns. . . What houses do you think they'll be in?_"

When everything settled down, people began trickling into the Great Hall, finding, to their great surprise, Alfred and Matthew sitting on either side of Dumbledore, deep in conversation.

"So, how are your countries doing?" Dumbledore asked them, eyes twinkling.

"It's a bit shaky. There's turmoil in Ferguson, as you probably heard, then there are those cases of Ebola being treated in Georgia, and just a few days ago we got the first case of Ebola diagnosed in the U.S. from Thomas Eric Duncan! We're just lucky he couldn't have infected anyone on the plane," (note in end comments) Alfred responded. It was these times that Alfred was the most like his true self. He didn't have to pretend to be stupid for other's comfort, he could be as intelligent and informed as he wanted, and truly was.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. He had connected with most of the countries right off the bat. In a way, they were quite similar. They presided over something, yet at the same time, had to stay back too. The troubles of their people pained them. And especially as was the case with Alfred, it was too dangerous to show your full intellect. A genius world superpower, and a genius Dumbledore would be too formidable and fatal. Although many already considered Albus brilliant, if he ever delved too deep into his thoughts, bad things would come of it. And so they had both made promises to themselves that they would hide their intellect as best they could.

**I'm sorry! I know it's just Iike I'm taunting you about them not getting sorted yet, but really it's not intentional ^+^ Anyways, about the Ebola note, I know it was confirmed on Sept. 30, and the day in the story is Sept. 1, but yeah, it's handy for the story. Also, if you don't know about Ebola, look it up. It's huge and everywhere.**

**Anyways, tgtf! At last, the end of the school week. It's my advisory donut day tomorrow, :3 *noms***


	12. Chappie 12

**I know, I know, total filler, but I just wanted to get this idea out.**

Alfred lifted his head off his hands and looked about the room. Some kids stared at him and Matthew, while some talked animatedly to the other members of their houses. The whole room, however, fell silent when the huge oak doors swung open, Professor McGonagall leading in the new first years in a line.

"Now, when I call your name, come up to the stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted," McGonagall told the fidgeting first years. One looked ready to puke, his skin turning a greenish color and swaying on the spot.

"Abrams, Liam," called Professor McGonagall. The first years remained motionless, and the boy got even greener. A girl with long brown hair and black rectangular glasses pushed him forward, and he stumbled up to the front and sat down. The sorting hat was put on his head, and after a few seconds the hat called,

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"I'm sorry to say, but I think that one was obvious right off the bat," Arthur Kirkland said, sitting down next to Alfred.

"Hey Iggy!" Alfred said, leaning off the edge of his chair to look at what Arthur was holding. "Whatcha got there, Iggs?" "I refuse to respond to that name, Alfred," Arthur said curtly and turned to Dumbledore. "How are you doing, Albus?"

"Ah, as well as ever," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling once more. "It is so nice to see you three again, I only wish more could be here. Although this newfangled "Facebook" is coming in quite handy."

"I still remember the good old days where everything was simple, there weren't such things like computers, smartphones, tablets, and when people _stuck together_, and _listened to their elders_," England said, give America a pointed look.

"Aw, come on, Iggy!" Alfred said casually, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We're still friends!"

"Sanchez, Claudia," Minerva called out. The girl who had pushed the first boy up jogged to the stool, part of her muggle clothes showing beneath her robes, such as her red fingerless gloves with a Capricorn symbol on one, and "wisdom" in Japanese characters on the other. She plopped down on the seat.

The hat barely touched her head and yelled, "RAVENDOR!" Everyone was silent, confused. _Ravendor? That wasn't a house!_

Dumbledore, however, began to clap, as did Arthur. The girl looked confused as well, and looked up at Dumbledore, who stood up and addressed the hall. "Every few hundred years, the sorting hat knows it is impossible for it to make a decision, and chooses instead to merge two houses together. Please congratulate Claudia, as this is a momentous occasion,"

Dumbledore smiled at Claudia. "Claudia will reside in both houses, however, she will remain for the most part in Ravenclaw, as that was the first house in the merger."


	13. Chappie 13

Arthur smiled. He himself had been a double-house person, but chosen by the founders of the houses, instead of the Sorting Hat. Godric and Salazar had fought for a while over Arthur before England suggested that, "Perhaps I can just be in both of your houses?" They were speechless for a bit, but after much cajoling, Arthur convinced them he could be in both houses.

A Slytherpuff or Huffleryn was almost unheard of, and the other combos had an average amount of entrants.

Claudia walked to the Ravenclaw table and sat down next to a fellow first year Ravenclaw named Eliot Hodges, who was obviously of Asian descent, had dark hair that rivaled with Claudia's, and was beaming at her.

Hermione leaned across the table to Harry and Ron. "I read about that in _Hogwarts: A History_! Anyone who is a double-houser is destined for sucess and has prodigious talent! Ooh, she's so lucky! I wonder when she will come over to the Gryffendor table. I just can't wait to meet her."

The sorting continued, although a bit more subdued now. As, "Zwen, Lauren!" was sorted into Slytherin and walked over to her table, Dumbledore stood up.

"This year, Hogwarts will have two great privileges. The first, is that for the first time since its founding, Hogwarts will have foreign transfer students. Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams, sitting on either side of me, will be joining the fourth year student body. Of course, to have the entire Hogwarts experience, these two will be sorted. If you would both go over to Professor McGonagall, you can be sorted and join your house tables."

Alfred and Matthew stood, and walked around the large staff table to where Minerva stood. "Good luck," she said, winking at them. "I hope to see you in Gryffendor."

She handed over the ancient hat to Alfred, who stuffed it onto his head.

_Hmm, I had wondered when another country would come to Hogwarts. It has been so long since I had the fortune to look into Arthur Kirkland's mind. You all have such fascinating minds. Now, let's see. . . You have all the makings of a Gryffendor, but . . . My, my, perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty with my decision with Claudia. You could both be sorted into two houses._

_Which houses would I be put in? _Alfred asked the hat.

_Why, you, of course would be put into Gryffenryn, America. You're a fighter, you'll do what you need to accomplish your plans, but you do have heroism, that's for sure. Your many battles have shown that. You could be suited for Ravenclaw, too. I know you try to hide it, but you have smarts. You know that if everyone knew how smart you were, they'd be terrified. You're already a world superpower with the ability to destroy the world, but if people knew that you were smart enough to plan their use properly and calculate this kind of stuff, you'd be murdered in your sleep or isolated._

Alfred sighed out loud, and the students wondered what the Sorting Hat saw in his head, as it had already been ten minutes. _It's true, _Alfred thought. _And I hope it never happens._

_What do you think about_ _Gryffendor? _the hat asked him.

_They seem alright. There are some nice kids named Harry, Ron, and Hermione in that house. But can I ask you a question before you sort me?_

_You already have, but you may ask another, _the hat replied.

_Whichever house I'm in, can you try to put Canada in it also? I don't think either of us can survive this place without each other. I've just got a feeling that this year is gonna be rough._

_You are right, America. I wish you luck for this year. . ._

"GRYFFENDOR!" the hat finally shouted. Some students, who had rested their heads on the tables, jolted up. Alfred did not, however, move to the Gryffendor table, and instead waited for his brother to be sorted.

As Matthew placed the hat over his head, the hat's voice entered his mind.

_Hello, Canada. Let's take a peek into your mind, shall we?_

_A-alright._

_Hmmmmmm. You also would be suited for two houses, I'm tempted to call Huffledor, but I don't think Hufflepuff would help you develop your skills as best Gryffendor would. If you chose to poke a little hole in that muffling bubble that surrounds you, you'd have a great chance for glory. _

_Yes, yes, I think Gryffendor actually might suit you. I was not positive when I only saw you through your brother's memories, but just look right here. . ._

The Sorting Hat pushed a memory right up in front of Canada.

_Look at this, you rescued your brother. You helped him greatly with that incident. If you hadn't found him, or comforted him afterwards, America surely would have committed suicide. . . or tried to. Yes, yes, you are most worthy of Gryffendor, and Gryffendor is most worthy of you._

"GRYFFENDOR!" the Sorting Hat shouted out. Canada's sorting had not taken as long as America's but it came pretty close. All in all, their sorting had taken a full 45 minutes, and people were grateful that the dishes came out halfway through America's sorting. The twins walked to the Gryffendor table, and Dumbledore stood up, chewing heads swiveling towards him.

"Alright. We have two new great additions to a fine house. I hope their fellow Gryffendors will welcome them. And while you eat, I have great pleasure in making an amazing announcement. This year-"

Dumbledore was cut off as a fork of lightening arced across the Great Hall's magical ceiling, and the doors into the hall banged open, and a man walked in. He was resting on a long staff, and when another bolt of lightening illuminated him, Hermione and many others gasped.

His face looked like a carved block of wood that the sculptor had _tried _to make look like a face, but only had a vague idea of what a human face was supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. The man's mouth was a slanted line, almost matching the bunch of scars that covered his visible skin. His most notable feature, however, was one of his eyes. Instead of in his head like a normal eye, it was held in place by a gold ring attached to a black band that went around his head. The eye inside the ring was spinning madly, inspecting the hall and it's occupants.

He walked up to the front table, conversed briefly with Dumbledore, and then sat down in the seat next to him. Taking a small knife out of his pocket, he speared a sausage on it, sniffed it, and finally placed it in his mouth and started to chew.

"May I introduce," Dumbledore said, "our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He and Hagrid applauded, but they soon stopped. Everyone was too preoccupied staring at the man's strange appearance to clap.

**Awright! Finally a new chappie up! I just gotta say, when I was writing this, I accidentally typed Canada's name as "Candada" hwe hwe hwe :3 At least the houses are included nao! Guess what? I've decided to do NaNoWriMo this year! ithefantasticfanatic included a message on her story "Tale of the New World Twins and the Chamber of Secrets" (which actually inspired this story) and said she was going to do it this year. I was curious, so I went and looked it up to see what it was. Anyways, I probably won't post too much in November. On the weekends of this month, and any extra time I have, I will try to write extra chappies that I can periodically post them. Also, if you want to add me as a writing buddy (and also tell me what that entails) I have the same username over there.**

**~Mistyrious~**


	14. Chappie 14

Dumbledore attempted to continue with his announcement. "As I was saying," he said, and a few heads turned back to him, "I have great pleasure in announcing that Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year."

"YOU'RE JOKING!" the Weasley twins shouted, breaking the awkward silence that had engulfed the hall after the new professor came in. Dumbledore gave a small smile.

"No, I am not joking. Although. . . I did hear a good one over the summer about a (I don't remember what exactly so I'm guessing) hag, a goblin, and a werewolf who all go into a bar!"

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Ah, but, perhaps now is not the time. . ." Dumbledore said. "No. . . The Triwizard Tournament, for those of you who may not know, is a competition between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. The tournament was canceled, however, when the death toll climbed too high."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered worriedly. No one else gave those words much thought though.

"Over the years, there have been many attempts to revive the tournament, but they have not been successful. Our Ministry and the Department of Magical Games and Sports thinks it's time for another try. I daresay that in the respective common rooms, you will be able to hear more about the tournament from those that know about it. I think it's time, though, to get off to bed. I know you all want to be nice and rested for your first day of classes tomorrow. Chop chop!"

Matthew got up along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but stopped moving when he noticed his brother wasn't going with him. Alfred was still sitting at the Gryffendor table. He was retching over his empty plate. Holding his stomach, he curled into himself. He recognized this horrible feeling. His headache, his upset stomach, his climbing fever, they all added up. The symptoms had been worse when Dr. Brantley and Dr. Writebol had been sick at the same time, but they had been cleared of the disease.

"Matthew!" Alfred managed to gasp, and his brother rushed over to him.

"What is it, eh?!"

"E-Ebola. Thomas died," Alfred said feebly, and laid his head on the table. The vision slowly filled his head.

_There was blood, lots of it. It was on the bed sheets, and his breath was gurgling with the flow of blood. A doctor rushed over with a tube, ready to drain the blood and stop him from suffocating, but there was a dread inside of him. The end had to be near. He was weak. He was dying. _

Seeing what was happening, Dumbledore stood up, immediately understanding that this was a matter of a country. It was not something that could be helped, America would just have to power through. Enlisting Matthew's help, together they levitated him onto a stretcher and got him to the hospital wing, laying him down on a bed.

Alfred convulsed violently, retching again. He didn't know how the other countries could stand it. It was the worst feeling.

Matthew sighed, turning to Dumbledore. "This isn't even the least of it. We've got much more to come, including for me."

**Sorry! I hope it wasn't to gory, I tried not to go there. I'm sorry I havn't been able to stick to my one chappie a day schedule, 7th grade went full blast now, and I've got a ****_ton _****of homework. I'll work harder *pinkie promises* ;3**

**~Misty**


	15. Chappie 15

**Note: Right here at the beginning, I'm responding to a comment from a guest reviewer of the last chapter. If you didn't leave it, feel free to skip it ;o**

**Dear Guest Reviewer, **

**I understand where you're coming from, and in no way do I mean to start an argument over this, but I do have a few things to point out to you. I think each year is challenging in its own way. Just imagine what a _college_ freshman would say to you. When you were in seventh grade, you may have rolled your eyes at the fifth graders. However, because each year you learn things you didn't know previously, it may be difficult. Also, I did not say seventh grade was hard, I was implying that it was time consuming with the increased amount of homework and projects. I get that you have even more time consuming classwork as a freshman in high school than I do in seventh grade. I'm not going to go into the variables of how challenging our schools may be, and what classes we take, but please keep this in mind if you continue to read my story. **

**Sorry if you read this and it has no meaning to you, especially if this comment response was not directed to you.**

**On with the story!**

* * *

America was released from the hospital wing after a couple hours, and he and Canada went up to Gryffendor tower.

"Balderdash," Matthew said, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall, through which the brothers climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. There were a few stragglers in the common room who stared after them, a couple bidding them goodnight. Matthew guided the half-asleep America to their dorm room and onto a bed. Plopping down on the bed next to America's, Canada sighed.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" Harry said, peering around the curtains of his four-poster.

"Yeah, I'm alright, dude," Alfred said wearily. "Just need some sleep." He rolled over onto his side, and drifted into the world of dreams.

* * *

"This is going to be quite a year, Albus," England said.

"Yes, it most certainly is. Three countries is bound to attract some trouble."

"It's not only that. He's after us. You know what happened right before the World Cup, of course. It's not going to stop at just kidnapping me, there's worse to come."

"I agree. But at Hogwarts, you're safe for now. And all of the professors here are willing to fight for you, America, Canada, and any other country out there. You all have certainly helped us out countless times," Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes twinkling.

"Watch out for Moody, my friend. I'm not sure he is who you think he is. He's the crack that can bring down the whole structure right now," Arthur said, standing up and leaving Dumbledore's office, leaving the man to ponder.

* * *

Gloomy, heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, Hermione, Alfred, and Matthew examined their course schedules at breakfast.

"Today's not bad. . . outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, then Care of Magical Creatures. . . damnit, we're still with the Slytherins."

"What's Defense Against the Dark Arts like?" Alfred asked, munching on a hamburger he got from who-knows-where. "It's our last class today."

"It's so cool! Last year we had a great professor, Professor Lupin. He left though." Harry said.

"Why?" Alfred and Matthew asked.

"Well, there's a theory that the job is cursed," Hermione said. "No one has lasted longer than a year for a long time. Whether they quit, are fired, or die."

"Die!?" Alfred half shouted, making heads turn to him.

"It's only happened a couple times!" Hermione said. "Anyways, we'd better go to Herbology."

Alfred grabbed a couple more burgers before jogging after the group. "What do we do in Herbology?"

"It's all about magical plants. We're in Greenhouse Three today."

A lot of bubotuber pus, blasting, and divining later, the tired group arrived in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Right then," Moody said when the last person arrived into class, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind — very behind — on dealing with curses. So let's get straight into it. Curses come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do."

Moody looked around the classroom. "So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse or something?"

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Inside were three large black, spiders. Moody reached his hand into the jar and pulled out one of the spiders. Pointing his wand at it and muttered, "_Imperio_!"

The spider began to do crazy tricks, but Alfred stood up, whipping out his own wand, and pointing it at the spider. Immediately, the spider froze. "Stop it," Alfred said firmly.

Moody smirked. "Why is that, America? Should I do something else? _Crucio_!"

"_Periptimus_!" Alfred and Matthew shouted in unison. Moody was blasted away from the spider, crashing onto the floor. Everyone gasped, but America and Canada paid them no attention. They advanced on Moody, who still grinned.

"Is that all ya got?"

"No," the twins said together.

"As you'll remember,"

"We can actually do much worse!"

The twins began to grow, once again turning into 19 year olds.

"I'm sick and tired of you two. Your older brother is a pain in the ass, too. If nothing else, you both need to go die in a hole. But that's not possible, is it? So for now, just say goodnight. Now, class I will give a great demonstration of the third Unforgivable Curse, the killing curse!"

The class screamed as two streaks of green zoomed out of the tip of Moody's wand and plunged themselves into the hearts of the twins. Stumbling for a few paces, they tried to fight off the curse, but it was futile. Even a country couldn't win against the killing curse.

"P-Professor Moody!" Hermione shouted. "Y-you just _killed_ them!" Moody waved her off.

"They'll be up-an-running again soon enough."

"No they won't! Only one person has ever survived the killing curse, and he's sitting right next to me!" Hermione was getting hysterical now, as was to be expected. Many had already left the classroom, yelling for help. It took every ounce of their resolve for the trio to stay there with their friends.

Harry and Ron rushed to the twins' sides, and though she knew it was dangerous, Hermione stood firm in front of Moody."YOU'RE A HORRIBLE PERSON! YOU JUST MURDERED TWO INNOCENT—"

Hermione froze as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Harry and Ron both yelped and hopped backwards away from the spot where they were. There the twins sat, groaning and beginning to sit up.

"Fuck. I hate it when this happens," Alfred said, not yet realizing there were mortals around them.

"Yeah, I can't imagine what it was like with England! He was killed every two minutes, eh."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at the twins with bewildered expressions, but Moody just began to laugh.

"I told you it would happen, didn't I? There back in ship shape! Class dismissed," Moody said, and stumped his way into his office.

The trio was speechless, and, not wanting this to get any more awkward, the twins excused themselves.

"_Fuck,fuck, FUCK!_" Alfred whisper yelled. "We're so screwed! Iggy's gonna kill us when he finds out!" Together they ran up to Gryffendor tower, turning heads.

Along the way there were whispers of, "_Is that Alfred and Matthew? . . . Why are they adults? . . . But no! They just died in Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . Are they Dark wizards?_"

"BALDERDASH!" Alfred yelled, yanking the portrait of the Fat Lady open and dashing inside the Gyffendor common room.

"You two bloody gits! This is exactly why I never wanted to do this exchange program!"

The twins froze halfway up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

"_Shit_," Alfred hissed.

"You're lucky I'm more angry at that Moody impostor than you two," England said. "But make no mistake, I am _very_ angry at you. Right now we have more important matters to discuss. We need to get rid of the fake Moody. I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. He has to see reason now."

* * *

**Ok! Finally a new chappie. I would have had this up on Monday, I'm sorry, but I've had volleyball games all week going until six :p **

**Also, I was struck with an idea for a new story, so that will come up soon!**

**See ya next time! **

**~Misty**

**(p.s. ~ R&amp;R?)**


	16. Pottertalia AN

I'm sorry I have not posted x_x I had some weird sickness. And I'm also sorry if this notification got your hopes up, but I _**WILL**_ post the next chappie tomorrow! I swear, if I haven't done it by 4 oclock mountain time, I give anyone who cares the right to scream anything you want at me via PM or comments :p

Since I'm not bedridden anymore, I'll post more often. I'm giving up NaNoWriMo to focus more on Pottertalia. Cause honestly, debates, projects, homework, Pottertalia, AND NaNoWriMo is a bit too much for me currently. I'll attempt it next year or in high school :D

Anyways, that's all I have to say! I have the chappie ready, but I can't post it from a phone, so meh .

Also, totally random note: I play Prentend You're Xyzzy (an online cards against humanity). Idk if anyone else does, but I'd love to play with you! Same username for me.

See you tomorrow! ;)


	17. Chappie 16

"Arthur, I understand your concern for the boys and yourself, but I don't think Moody is a real threat. You know how he's gotten in his old age! How he acted was irresponsible, but he knew there was no danger of Alfred or Matthew dying. We can pass what happened off as a 'demonstration'," Albus said, giving hand quotation marks.

"I've told you before! That man is not who you think he is!" England protested.

"Arthur," Albus said wearily, "I've given my views on the matter. I hate to play this card, but this is my school."

"I hate to play this card but this is my COUNTRY!" England shouted. He was growing more and more frustrated with Dumbledore's ignorance. But he felt a twinge, and knew he just made Scotland angry at him.

Oy, settle down! he thought, hoping his telepathy would somehow reach the pissed country.

I will not!

We're not going to have a telepathic argument! That's the end of it!

Humph. You have hell to pay for this!

Dumbledore was speechless, but attempted not to show it and used England's distraction to his advantage. "By the by, you have flying lessons for the first month and then you'll be referee for Quidditch games. We're on a time crunch, what with the Tournament and all, but I think we can manage. After the first month, players on the team leave flying lessons to practice, and only a few people choose to stay and keep taking flying." England stood up and left, fed up with Dumbledore skirting around the real problem.

The trio and the twins had potions on their fourth day back at school, Thursday. Snape was running a little late to class, and Alfred chose to use that time to set up a little "surprise" for his "favorite" teacher. Taking his wand out, he pointed it at various things around the room, using a few of his favorite old spells to make the objects sticky, smelly, and a few other more dangerous ones. The dungeon door swung open just as Alfred sat back down in his chair.

Alfred tilted his chair onto two legs and relaxed, waiting for the show to come. Matthew shot him a disapproving look as all hell broke loose.

Last night Alfred and the twins hit it off immediately, and Alfred chose to borrow some tester versions of "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs". Fred and George obliged, saying to make sure to record what happened, because they doubted McGonagall would let them skip Transfiguration.

I'll give you one guess what Alfred's first prank was.

A huge, flaming, red, white, and blue dragon reared its head, soaring through the entrance to the classroom and setting Snape aflame. Hopping up and down, he attempted to put the fire out with a shout of, "AGUAMENTI!" but the flames only leaped higher.

The room was filling with the smell of burning hair, but no one cared, as they were either laughing their heads off or dashing out of the room for help. With a grade-A helpful student aura about him, Alfred rushed forward, a purple pill-shaped item in his outstretched hand. "Professor! Here, eat this. It will help with the fire."

While the Fainting Fancy did put out the fire, it caused Snape to immediately collapse onto the dungeon floor. Alfred turned to address the stunned crowd. "Just a side effect, people! No need to worry!" he said with a wink. Turning back away from the crowd, Alfred whipped out a Sharpie from nowhere and bended over Snape as he uncapped it.

And he began to draw his masterpiece.

A mustache there, some stubble here, an, "I AM AN IDIOT", and one that America could barely draw due to laughing... a... *ahem*, private area, smack dab in the middle of Snape's forehead.

America soon moved away from just Snape's face, though, and pulled up the man's sleeves. (Sorry if I mix up the sides it's on, I don't have the book with me.) He started with the left arm, and drew some American flags and stars. Then he stood up to address the Gryffendors rolling on the floor with laughter. "What should I draw on Snivellus's other arm?" he said as he swept Snape's right sleeve up on his arm.

He froze. What he saw reminded him of battles that raged millennia ago. An evil he believed to be banished from the earth.

_Reiden, he called himself. He was the worst villain to ever walk the earth until Voldemort. He used Elemental magic, and while it was quite unusual for Elementals to stray down the evil path, it was much worse when one did. Choosing to kill millions of the innocent forest creatures and humans, he destroyed his heart and soul, eventually in turn destroying him. Pure soul was key to Elemental magic. _

_While chance killed him, chance could never kill Voldemort. _

Their symbols were not identical, but they were similar. A blood red key surrounded by swirling leaves, burned into the neck of his supporters.

It him America in one. He had been taught long ago that souls always returned back home. A similar symbol, the same greed and evil. Mattie would believe him, they'd both been raised by nature. But England would not believe him. He had his mumbo jumbo about judgement day or something. A lot of America's inhabitants had that belief, but America himself had been taught by nature of the pure part of every being.


	18. Chappie 17

**A lot of Hetalia MEP YouTube videos and my writer's block has finally been broken. I'm sorry guys :p**

Snape woke up in the hospital wing a few days later with mysterious Sharpie marks all over him. America had conveniently forgotten to give Snape the other half of the Fainting Fancy, and Fred and George didn't even think of helping Madam Pomfrey to find the cure.

The Gryffendors were sitting in their common room, discussing the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, and complaining about the new rules that Dumbledore announced that day at dinner. Matthew was bouncing Kumajiro on his leg, while Alfred and the Weasley twins were finding ways to get over the age line (although Alfred was doing it just for fun, he knew he'd get over any day he wanted). In just one short day, the delegates from Beaubatons and Durmstrang would be arriving! Nobody could sleep, and one of the new prefects was _very_ displeased about that.

"Ahem! Everybody! Get going to bed, it's late, and you can always talk about the Tournament _TOMORROW!_" That little speech earned him a Canary Creme in his food at breakfast tomorrow morning. However, a few people decided it was getting late, and decided to throw in the towel. Including America. He hadn't been feeling too well, but shrugged it off as being far away from his country. Either way, he just wanted to fall asleep cocooned in his fluffy red, white, and blue comforter.

Matthew knew something was up when Alfred started shifting around in his bed, tossing and turning. When Alfred fell asleep, he was OUT. For hours. At around 8 am, Matthew heard whimpering noises, among other pained noises. After 46 minutes, Alfred's "nightmares" reached the height of their terror, resulting in America screaming. He was twisting and shaking so violently he fell of his bed, crashing to the floor. As the other members of the dorm sat up sleepily, Matthew rushed over to the floor.

"FUCK!" Canada said in one of his rare outbursts. "How the fucking_ fuck_ did we forget what day it was!"

Harry swung his legs over the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes before he put his glasses on and assessed the situation. "What, Matthew? What day _is_ it?" Harry thought for a second before figuring it out himself. "Why's September 11th so important to Alfred?"

Glaring at Harry, Matthew picked up Alfred and ran from the dorm.

Ron sat up. "S'matter? Harry, what's going on?"

Harry looked over at Ron. "I don't really know. Something happened with Alfred," he yawned. "We'll probably find out later, those two must've woke the entire school. Anyways, I've got Quidditch practice today. Apparently Wood wants to get us back in shape, and he has some announcement."

"Well, you can tell me later. Those gits lost me sleep, and I want to get it back."

* * *

Downstairs in the common room, Claudia tiptoed out of the portrait hole, and beckoned a fellow first year out. She wanted to see what was going on with the countries, and was headed towards the hospital wing.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had been called away to the Quidditch field because of an accident during the Hufflepuffs' early morning training. Matthew had left Alfred (who was slowly losing his child's disguise) on one of the infirmary beds while he went to find Poppy. Leaving the other first year, Abiel, to lookout for people in the corridors, Claudia crept inside and approached Alfred. She pulled up a chair next to him, although he was obviously in too much pain to even know she was there. She reached out and took his shaking hand into her own, and began to concentrate.

_I really freaking hope this works. I mean, it has on animals, Muggles, and monsters, but i have no clue about a country. Here goes nothing, I guess._ Her vision slowly faded into a scene of absolute chaos. The Twin Towers destroyed, so many dead - and a tremendous amount of pain filled her.

America began to stir. Feebly lifting his head, he noticed a girl next to him, trembling and moaning. He also noticed that somehow his pain (which usually plagued him for what seemed an infinite amount of time on 9-11), was miraculously gone. The girl next to him did not, however, seem in good shape.

"I left him in one of the beds, Poppy. He—" Matthew cut himself off at the scene before him. Alfred seemed to be perfectly fine now, but the girl he remembered as being sorted as a Ravendor looked like death personified. "Ah... I think the girl needs more help now."

Madam Pomfrey had already rushed over before Canada had started to even mention Claudia. She looked over at America. "What was she doing here?"

"I don't know - I just woke up and she was there."

Dumbledore walked into the hospital wing. He had expected to see America in another country-crisis, but was surprised. "What is going on?"

"Not exactly sure," Alfred said.

"Claudia actually appears to be in as much pain as you ought to be right now, Alfred. Whatever happened in this disturbing turn of events - we must wait for it to run its course. We already know that nothing works when we try to help you and Matthew. In the meantime though, the delegates from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons shall be arriving shortly. If you feel well enough, Alfred, you should come. You'd enjoy it quite a bit."

* * *

Quidditch practice was absolute madness. Wood tried to get the sleepy players to properly wake up with a little game of catch, but the only person who was really awake besides Oliver was Harry. He realized he and Ron had been less than considerate this morning to Matthew and Alfred.

_I just hope he'll be better soon. Maybe I'll go to the hospital wing and visit him after practice._

"Oh you're all hopeless! Get back to the changing room, I've got important news for everyone," Wood said. As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a mad rush to get to the changing room and to breakfast. "OK! Last thing before we go to breakfast. You may or may not know, but there has been a change to the Quidditch game rules. The people who make the rules decided they were gonna add two more players. These people are called Catchers, and they've got a whole other set of things to worry about in the game. They have different point Snitch-like balls to catch, and they have to avoid small red Flit balls along with the Bludgers. There is another twist, though. The Catchers must always be in contact. Whether they're holding their hands, one has a hand on the other's broom, or even if they share a broom, they must somehow be connected. So if you see anyone you think could do this, tell them to come to tryouts at the end of the week."

* * *

"Uugh," Claudia moaned, waking up as the sky began to fall asleep. The attacks were over, but the destruction remained. The pain would stay with her for a while. She lifted herself up into a sitting position and peered around the white curtains that surrounded her bed. _Where am I?_ she asked herself. _Oh crap! I guess I underestimated the pain America was in. I have to sneak out of here... I can't have questions._ Despite the pounding headache and burning muscles, she swung her legs off the bed and made her way out into the deserted corridor.

_Where is everyone?_ she wondered. _Ah, the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons people are coming. Everyone's going to be on the grounds. Oh, I'll just ask Collin for pictures, or come back to this year eventually._ She chose to go to the Gryffendor common room, as she wasn't really up to answering any questions to enter right now. She gave the password, and collapsed onto a comfy couch next to the fireplace.

* * *

The school filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry was between Ron and Hermione on one side, and Alfred and Matthew on the other.

Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers. "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Something large was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"DUDE! MATTIE, THAT'S SO COOL!" Alfred shouted. "A FLYING HOUSE!"

While Alfred was not entirely correct, he was closer than some of the terrified first years who shouted "DRAGON!" and "A FLYING TRAIN!". It was a gigantic, powder-blue horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. The horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

The group just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed,golden wands, each emitting three starts) before it opened. Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage,and of the horses, was instantly explained. A few people gasped. Alfred whistled and then said, "And Iggy said _I_ eat too much food."

Matthew gave him a glare, but was distracted by the next person to come out of the carriage. A man many would call tremendously handsome stepped gracefully out. He had hair of a light golden color, and gave a smile that made so many of the girls swoon. Taking the giant woman's arm in his own, he guided her towards Dumbledore.

"My dear Madame Maxime - and Mister Bonnefoy. Welcome to Hogwarts," he said as the other professors smiled and gave their small greetings of hello. Well, except one.

"Bloody frog! I ought to have known he'd be here, but he never mentioned anything about it!" he muttered under his breath.

"Ah, Angleterre, you were just not listening!" Francis said, directing his attention to the (in his opinion very _handsome_) gentleman next to Professor McGonagall. "But we will still have a magnifique time!"

"When you go to hell," England shot back at him. America dragged Canada towards the conversation, very interested to hear what was going on. "Watcha doin', Iggy? Talking to your boyyyyfriend?"

"I don't need to hear anything from you, git!"

"Angleterre, that's no way to treat a child!" America started to object, but out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

"Dumbledore!" a man wearing furs that were sleek and silver, called heartily. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank, you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, the crowd caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

"_It's Krum!_" Ron said excitedly.

* * *

The Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang.

"Krum! _Viktor Krum!_"

"For heaven's sake Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

"_Only a Quidditch player?_" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione -_ he's the second best Seeker in the world!_ I had no idea he was still at school!"

"I would think that with the _best_ Seeker in the world here, you would have been more excited about him. You were very excited this summer," said Hermione - miffed.

"Oh, well. . ." Ron didn't seem to have a response for that.

Besides Ron, there were only a few hardcore Bulgarian fans who were actually excited about Krum being there. Most people were actually more interested to see how he would react to Arthur Kirkland being there.

They were, however, surprised. The two Seekers struck up a conversation almost immediately and were laughing up until the point Francis interrupted their conversation and dragged a struggling Arthur off to the staff table.


End file.
